


coming home

by colormemotional



Series: there is nowhere else i'd rather be [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron's POV, Home, M/M, Metaphors, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, POV Second Person, Polyamory, he loves his boys and all of their quirks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormemotional/pseuds/colormemotional
Summary: When you were seven you tried to run away from home. You tried many times before that, too, but this time you were almost successful. This time, you got to the train station before they found you.





	coming home

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes I am back again with less pain than I originally thought,, love me some good ol lamsburr before finals week amiright,, there's a big gunfight metaphor here than is kind of self indulgent sue me
> 
>  
> 
> I'm willing to write shit for you on tumblr as anxiouspencils. find me, kill me, end my misery.

When you were seven you tried to run away from home. You tried many times before that, too, but this time you were almost successful. This time, you got to the train station before they found you. 

 

Running away was a dream made of wind and hope and irrational thoughts seven year old boys with no parents and a dying uncle have. Running away was something you were interested in. If you ran away, maybe you’d find a place where mom and dad were actually alive and uncle Timothy didn’t force you to learn about God every Sunday. Running away sounded good. 

 

You used to have a big globe that you’d mark the places you wanted to go to on. Japan sounded fun. California was the closest. Every night, you’d close your eyes and run your fingers along the circumference of the globe and feel the great valleys and towering mountains the world had to offer. One day, you’d travel there and maybe home would actually feel like home for once. 

 

As you got older, the plan of running away sounded harder and harder to accomplish. You moved to a different town, the globe got packed away and you never saw it again. The idea was still in your mind, but you could never reach it. Every time you thought you had a hold on it your hands would slip and it would fall from memory again, like those annoying claw machines and their cheap stuffed animals. 

 

You finished high school, you moved into a little apartment closer to the city and attended the university there. You went through the motions of life. You did what you were told, you got excellent grades, you pushed down those childhood dreams that you would never reach. Even in the university, you never seemed to find home. Home was never _ home _ . You passed by everyone, nothing more than a ghost. You always thought you might find it here. The sense of  _ belonging  _ and ease. You keep chasing it. You’re always running, trying to win this game of hide and seek. It isn’t in your dorm. It isn’t in the library. It was never in your uncle’s house. 

 

Then there is John Laurens. 

 

John does not feel like home, per say. John feels like rash decisions and bloody bar fights. John feels like hangovers and staying up far too late. He has cracks on his soft lips, tangles in his long hair that you always tell him he needs to get cut. He has gunfights behind his wheat field eyes that never stop shining with this passion, this resilience that tells you he usually wins those gunfights. When he doesn’t, you’re there, and you try to always be there, to dress his wounds and kiss his eyelids until he opens them and realizes that this is not a war.

 

John holds you and smothers himself into you and you can’t help but to do the same. When he holds you, when he smiles at you, when he does anything it’s always at  _ you.  _ It’s always warm and golden and so much more than what you think you deserve it suffocates you. It is is so good, so much, it is painful but in that good way that leaves you gasping for more. 

 

It is not completely home, but he is more than enough. 

 

When John tells you about Alexander Hamilton, you say  _ he’s the loudmouth who yelled at me to join the debate team last year  _ and John grins and says  _ sounds like something Alexander would do.  _

 

You meet him the next week and he’s shorter than you thought, his eye bags and darker than you imagined, but John tells him he looks beautiful today and you think you can do this if John wants it. Alexander is different when he’s not shoving a flyer for the debate team, _meetings on Mondays and Wednesdays,_ into your face. He’s got long eyelashes and crooked smiles and arguments for days. He calls you _Burr_ , not Aaron like John does and he says it in a way that never sounds formal like it should. He’s always ink and caffeine and _Alexander,_ _stop fucking writing and help me with this._ He’s constant and there and between his and John’s arms you can finally breathe fully. 

 

If John’s love suffocates, Alexander’s love is an inhaler because every time you get some your lungs open up and you feel like you can run the length of the entire world. You can travel on Alexander’s love. You can feel reach the clouds with Alexander, but John is always there to pull you back down before you completely lose it. 

 

One evening you’re laid between a drooling John who won’t stop snoring and a clingy Alexander who won’t sleep until he’s latched on to your entire body and you wonder at the ceiling if this is what home feels like. You remember your dream of traveling the world, you remember the globe with the marker dots all over it. You were willing to go to another country for home. You were willing to reach the ends of land, to forever play hide and seek with that feeling of acceptance you so longed. It was here all along, though, it was here with Alexander’s stupid puns and constant all-nighters irritating you and John’s warm hands and freckled skin grounding you. It was with Alex’s long dark hair that he lets you comb and braid and John’s self destroying habits. It was  _ here.  _ Home is here with them and wherever else they might be.

To you, that will forever be enough. 


End file.
